


Burning at Both Ends

by TrueMyth



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, F/M, Future Fic, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 10:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4742828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueMyth/pseuds/TrueMyth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Veronica returns to Neptune during the winter break of her Junior year of college only to find a mystery waiting for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning at Both Ends

**Author's Note:**

> So, straight up warning, I started this WiP nine years ago, I have no idea where my notes currently are, and there's a 99.9% chance I WILL NOT CONTINUE THIS.
> 
> Still, I like how the banter between Logan and Veronica played out, and I don't want it lost on LiveJournal, so I'm moving it here. I totally understand if you stop reading now.
> 
> Written for lex_83’s Ask Questions Later Challenge (Action movie tropes). This plot idea was originally inspired by fickledame’s requests at vm_santa, so it is partially for her as well. Thanks to mutinousmuse for her help brainstorming. Thanks to herowlness for pointing me to Brainy Quotes. Beta’d by the awesome sarah_p and the emosewa ladydisdain225. Cheers to strippedpink for help with the scene break images.

>   
>  __
> 
> "It's better to light a candle than to curse the darkness."  
> ~ Eleanor Roosevelt ~

Atterson after Abernathy and Martinez before Millner. Veronica Mars wasn’t a fan of clerical work, but as her father’s secretary was visiting family up in Chino for the holidays, the least she could do was take up some of the slack while she was home on winter break. She placed the last folder in the cabinet and sighed.

Clasping her hands together, Veronica pushed them high above her head until her elbows locked and her arms vibrated with a satisfying tension. As she let them fall lazily to the top of her head, she surveyed the familiar interior of her father’s P.I. office, which was currently washed in amber, ruby, and gold hues, thanks to the marriage of weak afternoon sunlight and the old, stained-glass windows. Trailing her hand along the well-worn edge of the receptionist’s desk, she padded softly to the interior door, careful not to cast a shadow on the frosted window that bore the name KEITH MARS.

Keith’s low murmurs crept under the door like unintelligible smoke. He might as well have been conducting his phone conversation with his head deep in the fish tank. Veronica decided that, as a junior in college, she was above the glass-against-the-door ploy – which had never actually worked for her, but that was besides the point – and so she returned, with a heavy sigh, to the warm embrace of the receptionist’s desk chair and the beckoning tedium of the company ledger and a pile of receipts. Veronica pushed her curiosity at Cliff’s call to the back of her mind and reached for the ball-point pen, only to watch with resigned dismay as it fell off the edge of the blotter and under the desk. She rolled her head from her right shoulder to her left, savoring the caress of the curling ends of her hair along the inch of exposed flesh between the back of her t-shirt and the waistband of her jeans, before pushing the chair back on its wheels and dropping to her knees to retrieve the pen.

Veronica was brushing off the small bit of lint that now clung to the pen’s tip as she backed carefully out from beneath the desk when she heard the front door open. She watched as a pair of well-shined leather boots clicked their way into the office. They stopped a foot from the front of the desk, and she imagined the owner of the steel-toed, alligator-skinned monstrosities placing his hands in the middle of her carefully organized papers and leaning over to get what must have been an excellent view of her ass.

Fucking great. Her father didn’t have an appointment scheduled for that afternoon.

He cleared his throat and she prepared to pop out from under the desk and put him in his place with a few well-chosen words – then he spoke and the sound of his voice sent a mass of spiders crawling up her spine as her palms began to heat to near blistering and the dark sides of the desk seemed to close in on her. She still had nightmares where that voice was the only thing she could hear – taunting her, calling to her, teasing her about slutty, little girls – talking about Lilly.

Aaron Echolls’ voice was a sultry poison in Veronica’s blood as he inquired of her denim-clad rear, “Marta, honey, is Keith in? I need to talk to him –”

As Veronica’s blonde head cleared the mahogany surface, Aaron stepped back, knocking a small pile of receipts off the edge of the desk, his mouth hanging open. Veronica concentrated on maintaining her balance as she watched his face muscles work to contain his shock.

He was quick to regain his smiling façade and she was instantly reminded of the expression he’d worn the last time they had seen each other, when the verdict had come down: Guilty for corrupting a minor, innocent on all other charges. His grin would have done a Cheshire cat proud as he’d turned to face the happy cheers of his supporters. And if his smile had flickered slightly, like a candle flame’s brief stutter, when his gaze slid over Veronica and her father, if his brow had creased when he finished sweeping the room and realized his son was missing, they were only momentary ripples in the sunlit surface of his practiced visage.

“Veronica.” The statement of her name took all his stored breath and he paused, his chest rising as it filled with the air he would need to continue speaking on something Veronica could not care less about.

“What are you doing here?” 

His eyes flickered towards Keith’s closed door and he took a step closer to her, but also to the side, negotiating around the large piece of office furniture that was the only thing separating them. His hand was rising in what surely passed as a placating gesture on Planet Psycho.

“I didn’t realize you’d be here. I just need to talk to your father for a few minutes and –”

“Get OUT!”

Veronica had begun backing up as he followed her across the front of the desk, but now she planted her feet and refused to give up another inch.

“You have no reason to be here. My dad doesn’t want to talk to you. Get out or I’ll call the police.”

He took a final step forward and she flicked open her cell phone. Her finger was poised on her emergency speed dial when the inner office door flew open, banging against the end table. Keith emerged, ready to do battle, and Veronica knew things would be okay as she swung a cocky glance towards Aaron.

But then Keith’s stance changed, his shoulders dropping as his eyes began to dart between his daughter and the man who had almost killed her four and a half years ago. Veronica could only gape as he stepped up to Aaron and held out his hands and uttered the words that managed to shatter again the oft-patched vase that held together the sanity of her world.

“I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

As the surge of adrenaline that had pumped through her bloodstream at the sound of Aaron’s voice began to dissipate, Veronica could now see that there was no real hostility in Aaron’s bearing. He was, if anything, slightly embarrassed as he muttered something about a rescheduled appointment in LA and a busy phone line. Keith was no longer looking at Veronica, as he held one arm wide and invited Aaron into his office. Aaron turned to go in with a nod, but stopped and turned back to Veronica. The firm clasp of his hand on her upper arm shook her from her contemplation of her father’s acts and she found herself looking directly into Aaron’s dark eyes as his lips moved in near slow-motion.

“Sorry about that, Veronica. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He nodded and passed through the door before she could shrug off his hand, growl, scream, or turn him to ashes with her glare.

Keith’s only answer to her incredulous stare was an uncomfortable shrug and a mouthed, ‘I’ll tell you later,’ before he let the door fall shut.

Veronica’s hand flew unconsciously to cover the place where her skin still crawled from Aaron’s touch. She again found herself staring at Keith’s closed office door. This time, she didn’t want to know what was going on inside. She just wanted it to stop.

She and Keith were only supposed to be keeping the standard father/college-aged daughter secrets now: secrets like how she really did on that one paper, or what she knew about the drug use in her dorm, or why he was always so happy when he called her for their Tuesday night chats and if it had anything to do with Sarah Henderson from next door bringing them that plate of Christmas cookies. Secrets such as conducting meetings - _scheduled meetings_ \- with a man they both still believed had murdered a teenaged girl and walked free: those secrets were so far out of the plan they’d made for their lives that she wouldn’t be surprised if Ashton Kutcher jumped out from behind the filing cabinet and ‘punk’d’ her on national TV.

Keith had said he trusted her again, finally, after the stunt she’d pulled with Duncan, but it had obviously been a lie, and now she teetered on the edge of breaking down at the desk until the ink on the receipts ran like a blue-black river to stain the carpet and mark the spot of the betrayal. But that was as productive as waiting for the cops to find Lilly’s killer had been. As productive as letting Lamb piece together the bus crash. Veronica curled her fingers against the palms of her hand and relished the sharp crescent of pain from each fingernail. She examined the angry red marks left on her flesh and bared her teeth. She held onto the pain and the anger as she grabbed her bag and stormed out of the office. Veronica let the door bang loudly as she pounded down the stairs, knowing that Keith would hear it. She hoped it pained his heart even a fraction as much as what she currently felt.

The speed at which Veronica charged past them caused the papers on Wallace’s desk to ruffle as if they were murmuring their concern at her great agitation. In her sixth lap around his bed, she managed to gesture so emphatically that one small pamphlet fluttered over the edge and spiraled to rest between her feet. She paused her tirade against the evils of ill-kept secrets and bent to pick it up before turning to confront the narrow form of her BFF as he sat, cross-legged, on the middle of his bed.

“Alpha Rho Nu? You’re going Greek on me?”

“They send that pimp product to all the Bruins sport stars.” Wallace dismissed the shiny scrap of paper with a careless wave and made use of his first chance to speak since she’d flown into his room like a darting, angry bee. “But what did your dad say about it? Why would he ever meet with Aaron Echolls?”

The pamphlet drifted to the floor for a second time as Veronica let it fall, along with her shoulders. She spun around to sit at the edge of the bed and then fell back onto it. She stared up at the stucco ceiling, past Wallace’s uneasy face, and exhaled slowly. Her vision began to blur and she bit down hard on her lower lip, inviting the clarity of pain.

She finally allowed herself to face the core of the issue.

“I don’t know. I don’t know why he’d do this for Aaron Echolls. He knows I still have the dreams about – Why?”

Veronica’s only answer was the gentle pressure of Wallace’s hand slipping into her limp grasp. He squeezed once before he too lay back, and they gazed at the ceiling together.

The sad silence was broken by a digitized version of ‘Bad Boys’ sounding from Veronica’s pocket.

“That’ll be my dad.”

“You gonna to answer it?”

Veronica sighed. “He’ll just track my cell phone if I don’t.” A mirthless gurgle passed through her lips. “Hell, he’s probably doing it right now.”

Veronica rolled off the bed and flicked open her phone.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“ _Honey, I get that. I do. But you’ve got to give me a chance to explain myself before you make any final judgment calls, okay?_ ”

Veronica let the mouth piece hang to the side as she toyed with the miniature basketball hoop hanging from the shelves above Wallace’s desk.

“ _Veronica?_ ”

She pressed her back against the wall and closed her eyes before responding.

“Yeah. Okay.” Her head dropped forward on its own accord. “I’ll be home in a bit.”

She punched the ‘end’ key with a bit more force than necessary and shrugged at Wallace.

“What else can I do?” Her final words were a wistful statement of fact. “He’s my dad.”

The heavenly scent of homemade lasagna wafted through the air and greeted Veronica as she pushed open the door. She hung back for an awkward moment, clutching at the side of the doorframe as she watched Keith stop his work at the island counter and brace his arms against the edge before his head swiveled to meet her gaze. From the couch, Back-Up whimpered and then fell silent.

Veronica walked slowly to the chair across from Keith and sat down. She folded her arms, her hands gripping above her elbows, as she leaned forward and raised her eyebrows, her face asking the multitude of questions that she could not give voice to. She knew her knuckles were growing white and her lips must be compressed to a fine line as she braced herself for the answers to come.

“Aaron called me about a week ago and wanted to meet.”

A drop of water fell with a crisp plop from the faucet into a soaking pan that rested in the sink.

Keith took a seat and continued. “I started to tell him to get lost when he was going on and on about ‘bygones’ and ‘mending fences,’ but he kept repeating that he needed my help.” Veronica shifted restlessly but still did not speak. “I’ll be the first to admit, I don’t know why he approached me, of all people. But I’d have been crazy to let the opportunity pass me by.”

“Opportunity?” Veronica sputtered.

“Veronica, you know that business took a hit after the verdict was announced.” Keith gave a hollow laugh and shook his head. “Public sentiment is a fickle beast. One day you’re the golden boy, and the next you’re –”

“Chopped liver?”

Keith nodded.

“Yeah, I get that, Dad, but…” Veronica’s fingers fanned out in a strained gesture of frustrated confusion while she worried her bottom lip with her teeth and struggled to form a coherent sentence. “I thought things were getting better. I thought some people never bought the verdict. I still don’t see how you could… _work_ for that man… all to save your reputation?”

“That’s not why I’m doing it,” Keith argued indignantly.

“Then _why_?”

“Because he’s giving me access!”

Veronica stared and Keith could only sigh.

“I don’t know what games he’s playing, but he’s given me free reign. Bank accounts, business contacts – all the people and places that were closed to me because they sided with Aaron. They all have to talk to me now. I think I might finally be able to find the evidence and close the loopholes in the prosecution’s case. By working from the inside, I think I can finally get the bastard put away for good.”

Veronica fell back into her chair, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. “And have you found anything yet?” she asked wearily.

“Not yet,” Keith admitted. “I’ve had to spend some time on the actual case so that I can string him along.”

She reached out and plucked a carrot slice from the cutting board that sat between them. “And what is the case? What brought Aaron Echolls knocking on the Mars’ door?” she inquired before she popped the orange vegetable in her mouth and began to chew.

“Aaron thinks Logan is dealing drugs.”

The instinctive inhale managed to suck the small piece of food tight against Veronica’s windpipe as she sputtered. It took several hard slaps on her back from Keith and half a glass of water before her normal color returned. After a final, circular rub on her lower back, Keith retook his seat.

“You know Logan still refuses to see his father?”

Veronica shrugged as she took another sip of water and trained her eyes on the salad fixings in front of her. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Yeah, well Aaron decided that cutting him off financially was the best way to bring him back to the fold. UCLA isn’t that inexpensive, and Logan’s lifestyle has always been…” Keith trailed off and waited for her grudging nod. “The way Aaron sees it, the inheritance from his mother should have run out about five months ago. But Logan’s still living it up in some swank apartment in L.A.”

“Aaron wants you to find out how, so he can stop it and get Logan back under this thumb,” Veronica informed the cucumber pile.

“Sweetie, if Logan _is_ involved in something illegal…”

“I want to help.”

Keith blinked in confusion.

“I mean, I want to help you with the case. If I take over part of the investigation, you can put more time into working out what’s going on with Aaron. Right?”

“Veronica, I don’t know if I want you – with the history the two of you have…”

She met his gaze again. “Logan and I haven’t spoken in over two years. I think I can summon the proper distance.” Off Keith’s disbelieving stare, she dimpled sweetly up at him, “Besides, you know that two heads are better than one, Detective.”

“Okay,” Keith conceded, “I could use some help. The first run of computer checks haven’t turned up anything suspicious, and it would help if I didn’t have to run up to L.A. myself –” Veronica clapped her hands and jumped off of her chair.

She babbled happily about ‘old times’ and ‘team Mars’ as she pulled down a large bowl from the kitchen cupboards. If her voice tended towards shrillness at the end of one sentence, she quickly covered by snagging a carrot piece for Back-Up and cooing down at him before continuing to assemble the salad. Keith halted her chatter with a single restraining hand on her arm.

“Veronica, I don’t want you to take any risks. If Logan is involved in something shady –”

“– I’ll call for backup. I was trained by the best, remember?” She dropped a kiss on his cheek and helped him set up for dinner.

Wallace answered her call on the first ring.

“ _What did he say_?”

“Why, Wallace, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you had nothing better to do that sit at home waiting for girls to call,” Veronica chirped. "Do I need to buy you a copy of _The Rules_?"

She heard a gush of air rush over the receiver on the other end.

“ _So everything’s okay then?_ ”

“More or less. Listen, how up are you on the UCLA social scene?”

“ _It’s uncanny how that head tilt is actually audible._ ”

“Wallace,” Veronica chided. She smiled at his rich chuckle.

“ _What d’you need?_ ”

Veronica worked to keep her tone light. “Do you ever run into Logan Echolls when you’re throwin’ down?”

There was a brief silence. “ _Yeah. He’s pretty big on the party scene. He’s come to a few games, too._ ”

Veronica chose not to make an issue of why Wallace had never mentioned Logan during their frequent chats. Posing questions that you already knew the answers to was a game for fools. She ignored the disapproving tenor of his voice and pressed on. “Do you happen to know where he’s likely to be… oh, say… tonight?”

Shouldering her way past yet another couple slow-grinding in the middle of the room, Veronica counted her blessings. As hormone-heavy as the make-shift dance floor was, she’d learned the hard way that canvassing it was better than trying to negotiate along the walls of Logan’s apartment. Three hands on the ass, a near miss with some jock’s beer can, and being challenged to a deep-throating contest by a bear-masked man wielding a sausage had driven her away from the darker corners while she searched for anyone who met the simultaneous criteria of upright, un-dilated, and free of meat products.

She grabbed the collar of a frat boy before he could help himself to his second beer and screamed her question an inch from his ear during the downbeats of the driving techno noise. Following the line of his finger into the smoky depths of the overrun penthouse, Veronica moved with more assurance through the churning hoard until she reached a less populated hallway. She ignored the occasional side doors and walked with calm strides towards the double doors at the end of the corridor. The two curved, metal handles felt cool against her skin. She paused as she gripped them, letting herself process the fact that the music was now muted, the air somewhat clear of the sickeningly sweet odor of pot. Veronica didn’t kid herself into believing that she was entering a purer place than the bacchanalia she’d just left, however. With a sigh, she threw open the doors and stepped into the twilight beyond before thoughts of retreat could take root in her mind.

It was a large room. The impression it gave her somewhat-addled senses was that of a cavern. A long wall to her right was open to the elements of the city at night, the lights of the Hollywood hills twinkling like fireflies. The sinister interior on her left culminated in a raised platform on which a pile of twisted darkness was enshrined. The darkness shifted, and the whisper of cotton against cotton against flesh met her ears. Veronica stood impassive as she noted a pale limb snaking back under the black sheets. A toned arm dropped carelessly on a small button set into the wooden bedside table. Two lights flickered on, bracketing the bed with a warm glow and chasing the cave-like similes away.

“If I’d wanted a fucking threesome I would have –” Logan’s words were dammed the moment his eyes finally reached the end of their slow evaluation of her body. They locked with her calm gaze over the bare shoulder of the tiny brunette he was currently embracing.

Veronica felt her mask of indifference slipping as his dark eyes slid to the left and he bent his head towards the co-ed’s exposed neck, so she turned away, contemplating the yellow flickers beyond the professionally cleaned glass and pretending she couldn’t hear the smoky rumble of his voice and the high pitched answers, pretending she couldn’t see the slim, white shape reflected in the dark shining mirror the window became in her peripheral vision. The higher pitched voice was growing shrill as the figure was covered with a rumpled blur of colors. Veronica picked a single starburst, slightly off-set from the rest, and fixed her gaze on it until she grew cross-eyed.

“What the hell are you doing here, Veronica?”

She turned slowly and found Logan, an old pair of sweats riding low across his hips, sitting on the corner of his bed as casually as a sultan in his own harem. They were alone.

“Well, I had a feeling you wouldn’t return my phone call.” Veronica offered the words with a small sideways smile and a shrug as she began to walk, with a studied nonchalance, around Logan’s room. Her eye darted across empty surfaces and lingered longingly at the closed desk drawers as she kept half an ear on the conversation.

“Someone hasn’t been keeping up on their Miss Manners. It’s common courtesy to at least try. Not to mention actually looking at someone when they’re talking to you instead of scoping the place out like some two-penny thief.”

His words jerked Veronica around to face him as easily as a well-made tether.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I didn’t realize you thought I was stupid.”

“Because what could have given me _that_ impression?”

“Because I dated you, you mean? Don’t sell yourself short,” his eyes traced a line of fire down her petite body, “shortie.” He leaned back on the bed, propped up on his elbows as he regarded her with a faint smirk that didn’t quite reach his half-closed eyes.

Veronica returned his fake smile in kind as she took a self-conscious step onto the small dais around the bed. “I didn’t come here to fight, Logan.”

“Oh, really? But we do it so well.”

Veronica was slow to respond as she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes ceiling-ward, and Logan seized the opportunity to continue.

“You must be here for that other thing we do so well,” he decided, and he skittered backwards on the bed, pushing the blankets and sheets until they fell in a pile at her feet before he gave a series of three quick pats on the mattress next to him. He wiggled his eyebrows and chuckled at her disgusted sigh.

“So what is it, Logan? Gambling? Drug dealing?” She tilted her head and feigned a gasp of surprise and pointed at his startled face with the flair of a cartoon character that just had a light bulb blink into life over her head. “Are you some rich woman’s mistress?”

“ _What_ are you talking about?” he growled.

Veronica pressed her advantage. “All this?” Her sweeping gesture included the entirety of the penthouse and the grand city view. “And your tuition? The wild parties? I know how much your mother left you. You aren’t just living beyond your means, Logan. You’re not even in the same galaxy.”

“What do you care?” Logan threw his legs over the side of his bed and stalked to a small liquor cabinet set into the wall. Veronica imagined she could see his mind churning, seeking the correct response, the right lie, as he spun the cap off a bottle of scotch and let the amber liquid splash into a cut glass tumbler. He finally faced her, leaning against the small bar and saluting her with his glass. The cocky smile had returned. “And here I’d thought you had resigned your wings and halo in high school.”

“Who is paying for this place, Logan? What are you involved in? It’s not really drugs, is it? God, don’t you understand how dangerous that can be?”

“Your concern for my welfare is touching. Really.” Logan tapped two fingers over the vague vicinity of his heart. “But it’s unfounded, I’m afraid.” He left his drink behind and made his way to her side. He leaned close, the difference in height afforded by the raised platform allowing him to bring his mouth a few inches from her ear with barely a crick of his neck. “The secret to my success is pretty fucking boring.”

Veronica shuddered as his warm, liquor-scented breath curled over the skin of her cheek before falling into the shell of her ear. Her eyes slanted sideways, tracking the movement of his lips as they formed his next words, as they moved through the air until they hovered a hand’s span from her own.

“Can you keep a secret, Veronica?”

Her tongue darted out to wet the middle of her bottom lip as she nodded.

Logan’s lips moved closer still, and she could feel his dark eyes tracing the lines of her face. Her tongue flickered again between her parted lips, and she tasted the slight spice of his breath in the air between them.

“So can I.”

And then he was gone again, throwing the double doors of his bedroom wide open with a gallant gesture and then leaning against the corner of the entrance alcove as he made a production of examining his fingernails. No doubt he would have checked his watch, had he been wearing one.

Veronica marched off the dais and across the floor.

“When are you ever going to grow up and try something new, Logan?”

He peered at her from beneath the fall of his lashes. “I will if you will.”

Veronica gave an inelegant snort. “Seriously? ‘I know you are but what am I?’”

Logan closed his eyes and began to chant. “I’m rubber and you’re glue…” until Veronica threw her hands up in surrender and passed through the doors. She heard the doors slam shut on the words, “sticks to you,” and felt a corner of her mouth twitch up in response.

Until she realized how fruitless that interview had been and she once again pressed her lips into a straight line.

A shout of distress down the hall called her attention to three drunken frat boys trying to fit a fourth down the laundry chute. And that gave her an idea.

Sifting through a dumpster full of garbage was hard enough when you had both hands to steady you, but Veronica refused to remove her left hand from its firm grasp on her nose. She was having a difficult time enough not gagging on the foul air she had to breathe in through her mouth, let alone what she’d have to endure if her nose was uncovered. If she could leave the alleyway behind Logan’s building without making a contribution to the slag pile, she’d call it a success. She chomped down harder on the new piece of spearmint gum and kept looking.

When she hit a layer of beer bottles she perked up, and began flinging them aside, hoping her hair wouldn’t come loose from its make-shift bun. This was a long shot but… and there it was. Veronica gasped with surprise as her fingers closed around a sheaf of official-looking papers. She then spent the next minute struggling to contain the resultant lungful of noxious breath as her stomach gurgled in protest.

She clambered out of the sticky container gratefully and snapped her mini-flashlight on. It was almost too perfect, covered in secretive stains and tattered though it was: accounting records for a large fund with Zeus Savings and Loans under the name of Logan Lester. From even her cursory examination, from what little she could make out between the coffee stains and random tears, she could see the amount of cash moving through it matched up much better with Logan’s current style of living. Veronica folded the papers into a small square and stuck them deep into the back pocket of her jeans. She pulled a small box of handy-wipes from her bag and cleaned up as best she could before pulling her leather jacket back on and returning to the parking garage.

Veronica was somehow not at all surprised to find Logan lounging against the cement pillar near the old LeBaron. She tried to walk past him without comment, but he stepped smoothly into her path. She responded with an economical shift of her eyeline. She was too tired and dirty to want to play this game again.

“What do you want, Logan?”

“Couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye, right? Remember? I’m the one who _does_ read Miss Manners.” His voice was a low vibration that worked its way up the back of her spine as he swaggered a bit closer to her. She ignored the sensation and folder her arms.

“You really do think you’re God’s gift to women, don’t you?” She marveled.

“Actually,” his finger ticked the air, “I think you’ll find that was the whole ‘multiple orgasm’ thing.” He pressed a thumb to his lower lip in a pondering gesture, and then nodded his head as he reached a conclusion. “I prefer to think of myself as the delivery boy.”

Veronica fought to contain her bubbling mirth, and he took one more step closer to her, only to recoil in horror.

“Jesus FUCK, Veronica! Where the hell have you been?”

“You’re all charm, Logan.” Veronica breezed past him, carrying her rotting stench like a banner of glory. She turned her key in the lock, only to have the door slammed shut as she pulled it open. Two tan arms framed her on either side of her body, and she felt his breath whisper, past her messy bun, fanning the sweaty skin at the back of her neck.

“Why are you here, Veronica? Why are you asking these questions?”

She revolved slowly within the circle of his arms and met his watering brown eyes.

Just as frankly, she responded, “Where are you getting your money?”

She would never be able to say how long they stood there, surrounded by shadows and cement, willing the secrets to pour forth from the other. Somewhere, a car door slammed and they both blinked. Logan stepped back, freeing her to her own personal space. She yanked open the car door and tried not to shift noticeably when she sat on the wad of evidence. She backed out and drove purposefully towards the garage’s exit. She only checked the review mirror once, but he was still there, as she knew he would be, watching her tail lights disappear.

Veronica snapped her gum and drove on.

Convincing the bank managers that she was an employee from the Torrance branch had been easy. Getting them to allow her private access to their files… now that had taken some serious B.S. skills. Veronica smoothed the side of her smooth chignon with no small amount of pride as her other fingers flew across the keyboard in the private office.

From memory, she entered the number of ‘Logan Lester’s’ private account and began to sift through the data. The withdrawals were familiar: the amounts all tallied with the suspicious deposits to the accounts under Logan’s real name. The deposits in the Lester account were stranger. Some were small and frequent. Others were large lump sums. When Veronica tried to request information on the depositing accounts, error messages began to flash and her frustration mounted.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway and she hit the print key.

The door at her back opened with a discreet whiff of noise as the printer at her side hummed to life, and she worked madly to minimize the browser windows.

“Thanks, I appreciate the offer but I’d rather speak to Ms. … Airs?... alone.” Even if she hadn’t just heard that voice last night, Veronica rather liked to think that she still would have recognized its inherent lazy humor.

She spun in the chair to face Logan as he pulled the door shut.

“Mr. Lester, I presume?”

“Always a pleasure, Ms. Airs.”

Veronica stood and walked casually to the printer and began assembling the documents as they rolled off. “How did you know?” she tossed offhandedly over her shoulder.

“I didn’t. But whenever some starts asking about your secret accounts, it’s generally a good idea to make sure they’re safe.” He was moving closer, and she willed the printer to work faster. “I was only half serious when I asked if a cute blond had been asking after my accounts this morning. I’d forgotten how quickly you can move.” A leather clad arm reached around her body and his hand closed on the top of the bundle.

Veronica closed her eyes and held on, but yielded to his second tug. She watched him pace the room as he flipped through the pages.

“They’ll know you’re a fraud by the time we leave. You don’t get to keep these.” He thumbed the stack once.

Veronica shrugged.

Logan sighed, “But, of course, you’ve already memorized all the important details. Fuck, Veronica, I swear, it’s just from investments. Boring, stupid, investments. But, if my dad knew, he’d find some way to yank them. I’m just covering my tracks.”

“Pretty large payoffs for the kind of starting capital you had.”

“I like to take risks.”

There was no arguing with truth and Veronica took a seat again as she watched Logan collect the last papers from the printer and begin feeding them to the small shredder in the corner.

“Logan?”

He grunted.

“ _No one_ makes that kind of money from investments.”

His gaze locked with hers from across the room.

Her cell phone chirped.

Never breaking eye contact with Logan, Veronica answered the phone.

Cliff’s voice was hoarse on the other end of the line, as if he was fighting a cold. “ _V, do you know where your dad is? I really need to speak to him_.”

“Sorry, Cliff, he’s out of the office right now, working a big case. Is there something I can do for you?”

“ _No, I -_ ” Oh, god, was that a _sob_? Veronica stood up, and moved closer to the lone office window, hoping it was a reception issue. In the back of her mind, she registered that Logan was moving closer, his forehead creasing.

“What’s wrong? I know Dad’s been working on something for you. I can pull the file and –”

“ _That’s just it. The file? Veronica, your dad was working a missing persons case for me, for old time’s sake. And… They found her._ ”

“Well, that’s great Cliff. I’ll –”

“ _Her body. They found her body. Veronica, Loretta Cancun is dead._ ”


End file.
